12. Jeanie
12 /
jeanie
Trashy Penis Whistles
“Maybe I’m thinking about this wrong,” I say to Nathan. “Maybe I should talk Sophia into dumping Roman, not the other way around. With her out of the picture, I could win him back.”
Nathan offers me a sly grin. “Now you’re getting the hang of this.”
“Are you sure you’re a life coach?” My lip quirks.
“I didn’t say I aspired to be an ethical one.”
“I’m truly worried for your future clients.”
“I hope they’re all as devious as you.” His eyes sparkle as he strokes my hand with his thumb. “Listen, I have to leave for that job. Will you be okay?”
“A modeling job?”
“Let’s go with that.”
Nathan places a soft kiss on the top of my hand, leaving a patch of heat in the shape of his full lips. My mouth parts at the gesture, but I quickly shake it off and conclude someone must be watching us .
“I’m running late, but I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”
When my hand drops, he steps backward and points like he’s checking in on me one last time.
“I’ll be fine.” I wave him away.
A few minutes ago, I was losing my mind, but now I’m grinning from ear to ear, feeling hopeful. But for what? I’m unsure if it’s about the adjusted plan to break up Roman and Sophia, or if it’s because of my newly forming friendship with Nathan.
Having a shady sidekick is fun.
“There you are!”
I turn to Sophia’s voice and do my best to appear cheery.
One last time, I look over my shoulder toward Nathan. I catch his attention before he rounds the corner. He slices a hand across his neck and points to Sophia when she’s not looking. I grin and nod, remembering the plan.
Sink the Sophia ship.
Before I can object, Sophia slips an arm around mine and guides me to a group of women. Their feisty conversations echo through the lobby and grow louder as we approach.
“Ladies! Look who’s joining us,” Sophia announces to the group.
The women scream at the top of their lungs when they see me. I wince, but then can’t help but relax when I recognize a few faces. Some are Roman’s extended family I haven’t seen in eons, while others are friends of Sophia’s I’ve never met.
In total, there are twelve of us: Elsie, Amelia, Brooke, Iris, Lexi, Talia, Ruby, Kayla, June, Mia, Sophia, and me. They drag me into the fold like no time has passed or we’ve known each other for years.
After introductions, Sophia blows a large penis whistle hanging from a chain around her neck. Beside her, Mia dutifully holds a box overflowing with bachelorette party favors.
“Ladies, it’s time to trash up this outing!” Sophia whirls her hand in the air like a cowgirl.
The others clap and whoop.
Mia hands out a myriad of party items that blink or sparkle: sunglasses, necklaces, head boppers, and tiaras. All are embellished with penises. A sparkly hot-pink feather boa wraps my neck. Sophia wears a pink sash across her chest that reads the bride in silver letters. I do my best to ignore my visceral reaction.
“My best friend from college, Natasha, isn’t going to be here. I hope you don’t mind wearing her top.” Sophia holds up a shirt.
“I don’t mind,” I say, though I can’t guarantee I won’t strangle Sophia with it. It was easier to play nice when Nathan was here for support.
Sophia’s face lights up like this is the best news she’s had all day. My phony smile passed the test. Inside, a villainous laugh cackles.
She’s going down.
Everyone slips the oversized tanks over their clothing. Dressed and accessorized, we’re an explosion of pink glitter. We snap several goofy group photos.
Sophia’s voice projects through a mini rhinestone- studded bullhorn. “We’re playing one fun game tonight, a naughty scavenger hunt!”
The group squeals. Their excitement, I admit, is a tad contagious.
“This is how it works,” Sophia says.
Beside her, Lexi spins so we see the back of her tank. In sparkly silver letters, it reads:
I’M THE brIDESMAID AND I WILL ...
Lexi bends forward, flattening her back like a tabletop. Sophia leans in to write on the fabric with a black marker. When Lexi stands, we read the added words aloud.
TALK A MAN OUT OF HIS BOXERS
The group hoots. Elsie pumps her arm. Iris catcalls. Someone else hollers, “This night is going to be epic!”
“After Lexi achieves her task, I’ll hand out the next mission. Now, let’s get this party started!” Sophia says, then whoops again.
The group lifts their arms in unison and whoops back. They’ve officially become the annoying girls who whoop and squeal together .
I halfheartedly join in, but I’m nervous about committing to the rest of the evening. When I recall Nathan’s advice, have fun, dance my heart out, and pretend to be Sophia’s best friend , I remind myself of the horrific new beef shop commercial. I decide to leap, even if I’m not sure I can swim. It’s the only chance I have of reaching my goal.
A limo delivers us to an exclusive club in Fort Lauderdale. We bypass the red velvet rope while others wait in line.
The interior is dark with blinking lights and roaming lasers. Our party is VIP, sitting on a sofa bank near a DJ spinning upbeat pop music. A double staircase wraps around his dais, while a dance floor spreads out before him. Skyboxes with onlookers, three stories up, tower above.
Lexi achieves her scavenger-hunt mission quickly. For the price of a kiss, a handsome man shimmies out of his pants. When he hands over the coveted prize, a victorious Lexi stands on a barstool and waves the boxers in the air like she won a game of capture the flag. Cameras flash. The bartender blows an air horn. Everyone at the bar cheers.
Next, Amelia is tasked to sell her bra to the highest bidder. She accepts the mission like it’s the Mona Lisa on auction. She talks the DJ into emceeing a bidding war between several men.
Boobs lifted, she struts the stairs like a voluptuous lingerie model. When the bidding reaches seven hundred dollars, she removes the slinky black bra, pulling it through the armhole of her tank, and seductively dances with it burlesque style. It inspires some guy out of a whopping five thousand dollars. All proceeds go toward the bachelorette party’s growing bar tab.
As the night continues, Iris stands on the bar and fakes an orgasm to a captivated audience. Kayla sweet-talks a security guard into mooning the bridal party. Elsie kisses someone with the same name as the groom. Though I’m pretty sure he said his name was Omar, not Roman.
We toast each victory, and somewhere along the way, I stop counting the number of drinks I’ve consumed. Despite my ulterior motives, I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
“Jeanie’s turn!” Sophia says when she finds me on the dance floor with the girls.
Eager for my mission, I lean forward, and Sophia writes on the back of my tank. When she’s finished, I turn so everyone can read it.
“Get a lap dance from the stripper!” they scream in unison.
I’m still laughing at the idea when the club lights switch off. When they snap back on, a silhouette is backlit against high-tech lasers at the top of the double staircase. As a dance mix of a sexy song plays, the man makes his way down the stairs through plumes of rolling smoke and shadows.
He deftly hops the railing and lands on the counter of the DJ’s dais. In between highly skilled gyrating hips and undulating body parts, he peels away a jacket, tie, and suspenders in the most captivating and provocative way. Beneath are defined muscles behind a tight dress shirt. Meanwhile, something of inhuman size bulges in his pants .
Beside me, the ladies bounce and scream at his performance. That’s when I remember I’m his target.
Am I really doing this?
I glance around the club as if I will find Roman shaking his head at the idea.
It’s not easy, but I shove the guilt away, concluding this is all part of the act. I have to play along if I’m going to convince Sophia I’m here to have fun and celebrate with her.
With the decision made, I clap with gusto when the stripper backflips off the DJ stand and lands a few feet away. When he spins to face me, I fumble back several steps, only capable of a dumbstruck stare. My mind shifts to black-and-white static.
“It’s Nathan!” Sophia screams in my ear. She holds my shoulder and bounces in place.
I see him but I’m still confused. Am I making this up in my mind? I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, but he’s still there, shooting me a fiery inviting stare.
What’s more concerning? The attraction I feel toward him at this moment is startling. My entire body temperature rises ten degrees, and I don’t know what to do with my hands. I snap my mouth closed and try to swallow.
With all my mental energy, I attempt to force the attraction away with zero success. I want to blame the alcohol, but I can’t. Even if I were stone-cold sober, I’d react the same. How could I not? Nathan is startling hot, with or without liquor goggles.
When Sophia announces to the bridal party that he’s my boyfriend, they become more hysterical. For some reason, several howl. Elsie claws the air like an animal in heat. The rest chant his last name.
“Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!”
Iris clamps her hands on my shoulders and pushes me into a chair. I’m in too much shock to protest and too terrified at the reality of the situation to budge.
As Nathan dances, everything finally sinks in.
My hot and too-young fake boyfriend, slash unorthodox life coach, is a stripper. A real stripper. Like, he takes his clothes off for money.
The troubling part? My panties are already ablaze in anticipation of his oncoming lap dance. Nathan gives new meaning to the term panty-scorching.